


count your blessings

by zantetsvkens



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, M/M, POV Second Person, Weapons, from suna's perspective, kimetsu no yaiba au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25906729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zantetsvkens/pseuds/zantetsvkens
Summary: Sometimes a single gift is all it takes to draw the line between life and death.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	count your blessings

**Author's Note:**

> i don't go super into detail with the violence but it's like. it's there. it's a kny au so idk what you're expecting
> 
> anyways sometimes my brain likes to be an dick and wake me up at the bright and crisp time of ass o'clock in the morning and be like "you _will_ wake up and write this or you will Regret it" so i woke up and banged out 6.4k words in the span of a single day. please dont follow in my footsteps.
> 
> this is also my first time posting something written in 2nd person pov so sorry in advance for any grammar issues and whatnot

The sword in your hand is heavy.

It is not heavy in terms of weight, no. Your sword is about as light as a feather, like the wind that caresses your cheek on a fine summer’s day. The pale green blade shines bright beneath the sun, but it weighs heavy in the palm of your hand with the sense of duty, of obligation and responsibility and the weight of the lives that you have taken and failed to save with this very sword.

You swing your blade and feel it dig into muscle and sinew, feel it sever and rip through bone as the demon howls and shrieks and makes one last swipe at you. You dodge it with ease and watch as it fades into ash. You’ve long since gotten used to it, seeing this scene and feeling the weight lift from your shoulders as you finally eliminate the threat to yours and everyone else’s existence in the world, but that doesn’t make anything else that comes with this job any easier.

You take in a breath but all you can smell is blood and the lingering scent of death and rotting flesh, brought in by the wind that blows gently through the clearing of a village that no longer stands.

You are too late, have always arrived just one second too late to save the innocent from a slaughter, a massacre that left blood running through the streets like rivers and the body count higher than it should be, than its supposed to be.

You see a movement in the corner of your eyes and at first you think it's a demon that you might have missed, that it is trying to escape and make its way to safety as the sun begins to slowly rise.

But no, it is not a demon. It is a boy, a boy around your age with black hair and gray eyes and in his arms is another who looks just like him. Except the boy in his arms is limp and bloody and not at all moving and you fear for the worst as you hurriedly make your way over to them.

You are just mere steps away when the boy notices you. He tenses and brandishes a knife, protectively curling over his brother and snarling like a man gone feral, all teeth and bite and laced with anger, but he’s got the fires of determination burning in his eyes, a will to keep his brother safe and from further harm despite the grief that you can see hanging heavily over him like a vice.

"Ya here to try and kill us too?!" He growls, but you take your hand off the hilt of your sword, place your hands up placatingly and in a gesture that signals that you're not here to harm.

"I'm here to help." You murmur. You keep your voice soft, gentle, like you are coaxing a scared animal out of hiding, attempting to keep it from cowering in fear.

The boy eyes you with mistrust, but he must see something in you because in the next moment he is wearily lowering his knife, moving to cradle his brother's head and it is then that you see where all the blood that covers them is coming from.

There is a large gash on the other boy's torso, claw marks raking up his skin and allowing the blood to run freely. The wound is large enough and deep enough to be fatal, but you can see it, just barely, the ragged rise and fall of his chest as he takes in breath after breath in his unconscious state.

He's still alive, still breathing, and you'd be damned if he dies on your watch.

"Let me see him." You say, and the boy curls around his brother further, distrust clear in his eyes, but you can tell that he is afraid, that he is scared and that he doesn't know what to do. He looks at you one more time, gaze lingering on your face before trailing down to the palm of your hands, open and patient and waiting.

He shifts, lets you come closer, and you take the other boy into your arms with care, ensuring that you don't jostle his wounds and mess him up further.

"Please," The boy begs, "Save him."

His voice is raw in the way it is when it sounds like you are about to cry, but despite the fact that you want to allow him time to breathe, to let him feel the emotions that have welled up within him over the course of a night gone wrong, you know that now is not the time because dawn is still a half hour away and demons still lurk nearby. You can feel it, can sense their presence in the world around you from the tips of your toes to your very bones how the demons are prowling in the dark and waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Stand up and keep close to me." You order, because there's no time to beat around the bush. Every cell in your body is screaming at you in the way that it does when danger is nearby, close enough to keep you on edge but far enough to not pose too much of a threat. Not yet anyways.

You hold the injured boy in your arms, because the other is tired and weary and won't be able to make it far if he carries the weight of another. This leaves your hands filled but you have no other choice if you wish to bring them to a place that is relatively safe, that will keep them sheltered until the day breaks and dawn hits.

The boy scrambles to his feet and waits for further instructions, and you're glad that he knows the gravity of the situation to not disobey your orders. You motion for him to follow you and you keep at a pace that is just slow enough for him to follow, to meet your every step like a shadow.

You bypass rundown houses with torn down doors and broken windows and make for the edge of the village where you know stands at least one intact building, maybe more.

You approach one of the buildings that have managed to dodge the fires and survive the bloodshed that had found its way that night to this sleepy little village at the base of a mountain and quietly tell the boy that you are going to scout out the building to make sure that no threats linger before he enters.

He nods his head and takes his brother back into his arms, but he keeps close to you just like how you instructed and you're grateful once more that he isn't scared out of his wits enough to do something stupid like run off in fear.

You take your sword in hand and kick the door open to take tentative steps inside. It's dark, and there is no light filtering into the room. Not even moonlight peeks in through shuttered windows and you know before you can even see it that something is wrong.

It's just your luck that you happened to pick the one house that very likely holds a demon, but there's nothing you can do about it now.

Three steps forward into the all encompassing darkness is all it takes before the demon strikes. It's not aiming for you, but the boy and his brother in hopes of scaring him off and away from you.

But you had expected it and you react before the attack can reach them, before the boy has a chance to flee, and you block the attack easily enough despite the fact that the demon possesses enough strength to make you skid back on your feet.

You watch as the demon melts back into the shadows and you ready your sword. It's a low level demon from what you can tell, but it poses enough of a threat to you because of your need to protect those who cannot fight.

You keep an eye on the boy and his brother at all times out of the corner of your eye, and you wait calmly, patiently, for the demon to show itself once more.

It does not disappoint.

It takes you two tries before you can nail it in the neck—the demon is, much to your dismay, a slippery bastard but it's no match for you, who is known to be the best at evasion there is amongst all of the slayers in the Corp with your flexible torso and quick wit that frustrates people and demons alike to no end.

The demon dissipates into dust, and sunlight finally begins to peek out from over the horizon, but your day is not done yet, your duty not yet fulfilled as you sheathe your sword and turn to the boy who stares at you in awe.

That is not a good sign, not in the slightest, but by god is it the least of your worries now. You give the boy one firm look and he straightens, snapping out of his daze as you point to the nearby futon that has been laid out by the house's previous occupants.

The boy scurries to place his injured brother down while you go about collecting all the supplies that you'll need to tend to the boy's wounds. Water and washcloth and bucket, needle and thread and bandages.

You settle down at the boy's bedside and go about the usual routine. You clear the blood away with white fabric that stains red and wash it away with water that is cold to the touch. You take needle to thread then take needle to skin and sew flesh back together with practiced fingers.

You're thankful that Kita was so insistent on you learning the fine arts of medicine all those years ago because this knowledge has saved you and many others more times than you could count. 

You'll make sure that you can save this boy's life too.

You don't know how long you spend patching up an injury that isn't as deep as you had originally thought it to be, but it's long enough for the sun to have risen and for the light to shine in through the cracks beneath the window shutters. You've done all that you could for the boy and now it is up to him on whether or not he wants to live. Hopefully he'll pull through, if not for a life that he has yet to live out but for his brother who refuses to leave his side.

"Thank you." The boy chokes out, honest and kind and sincere with gratitude in his every word that you don't quite yet deserve.

"He's not in the clear yet," You say, because you were never one to sugarcoat things anyways. "There's only so much I can do. He needs to be properly tended to."

The closest wisteria house is a three day’s journey, but from where you are now the Insect Pillar’s estate is closer, a single day’s worth of travelling before you can get the twins to safety. 

You let them rest because it’s been a long night for them both and you’re not going anywhere anytime soon with one of the twin’s being as injured as they are. It’ll do no one any good if either of them collapses halfway through the journey, so rest is your top priority.

You get up to leave the room, to return to the village and do one last sweep before gathering up the bodies for burial, but a hand on your arm stops you.

“Hey,” The boy says, his fingers light against your wrist but firm enough to keep you in place. “Yer hurt too.”

You’re not quite sure what he’s saying because you don’t remember getting hurt at all, but the boy merely points to your cheek and you bring a hand up to check and soon find yourself with blood on your fingers.

“Let me help ya.” The boy continues and before you can say anything else he is already puttering away, collecting the leftover supplies from when you had treated his brother and returning to your side like a moth to a flame.

He urges you to sit and you don’t know why you find yourself obeying. Your wound is nothing compared to his brother’s, but the boy is insistent and you find yourself doing as told anyways even if you don’t feel the wound upon your cheek or find that getting patched up is necessary for you to begin with.

You sit yourself down and place your sword off to the side. You let him gently wipe away all the dirt and grime upon your face and let him patch you up with tender, careful fingers that do their utmost best to not cause you any pain.

He’s got a focused look in his eyes, like he’s done this sort of thing thousands of times before. It’s a bit fascinating, you think, the way he’s so concentrated on the task at hand.

“What’s your name?” You ask, because curiosity has gotten the best of you and if you’re going to be in his company for the next 24 hours then you might as well learn his name.

“Miya Osamu.” He says as he smoothes down the edges of the plaster that he’s stuck to your face with a gentleness that you don’t remember ever feeling in all the years you have been alive. “That’s my brother over there, Atsumu. What about you?”

“Suna Rintarou.”

Osamu grins, but it’s a tired sort of smile that looks like it takes all of his strength to make. You can see the exhaustion pulling at his eyes, can see the exhaustion in the line of his shoulders as the memories of the night before weigh down upon him like a boulder, like the world has decided that he is Atlas and that he must carry its weight upon his shoulders.

You think it’s wrong for an innocent civilian to bear this sort of weight, this sort of grief and all of the horrors that came with it when he should have never even had to see them at all.

(You don’t think about how you were once like him too, young and innocent and carefree, like you don’t know of what dangers the world could hold and all the tragedies that can come with it.)

You decide to take his burdens upon your back because that is what you are meant to do, what you are supposed to do. Civilians shouldn’t have a part in this sort of life, and unlike you he can still be saved from leading a life of bloodshed and a world of pain, from deciding that picking up a sword is better than living out your life in whatever way that best suits you.

(You’ve never had that sort of choice. You’re not going to let them follow in your footsteps, not if you can stop it.)

“Rest.” You say. “You’ll need it for the journey ahead.”

“But—”

_ “Rest.”  _ You repeat, and this time there’s no room for argument. 

Osamu does not resist, not this time. His eyelids are already drooping and you take the time to lead him over to the spare futon. He collapses into bed and you tuck him in, because all of his energy has left him by now and you’re sure that he doesn’t have it in him to do it himself.

“Hey,” He slurs, reaching out to grab onto the edge of your sleeve. “Stay?”

There’s a fluttery feeling in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long while and you can’t help but sigh because now really isn’t the time to catch feelings for a boy you’ve only had the pleasure of knowing for less than an hour.

“I’ll be here when you wake.” You reply, and that’s all it takes for the boy to shut his eyes and for him settle down beneath the covers.

He’s out like a light within seconds, but you stay seated for several minutes more, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the way he looks so much more at peace in his sleep.

You check on his brother once more before grabbing your sword and making your way out of the abandoned home. You give the village a thorough inspection, gather the bodies in the village square, and set yourself to the task of digging graves like the dozens and dozens of times you’ve done before.

It’ll be a while until noon, but you still have so much work to do.

* * *

The Butterfly Estate is a familiar place to you. You’ve spent countless days here in the courtyard and in the laboratories learning about medicine from the best of the best and it’s become more of a home to you now than your own estate will ever be.

Kita waits for you by the gates as if he had been anticipating your arrival, and maybe he has because your crow has been missing for days now and is currently perched upon his shoulder, basking in the pets that he is receiving from Kita’s gentle fingers. 

Kita greets you with a bow once you are close enough before turning his gaze upon Osamu and Atsumu to do the same. He turns on his heel and you follow him without a word because you are used to the way Kita speaks nowadays even when he doesn’t speak at all.

You hoist Atsumu higher up onto your back and Osamu trails behind you like a shadow. Kita breaks off from you to enter another room and even without him saying anything you already know what to do. There is a bed already waiting for you in the medical ward and you gently lower Atsumu down upon its surface as Kita returns with a box in hand.

He gets to work tending to Atsumu, who is now wide awake and screeching loud enough for the entire world to hear, but you don’t pay it any mind and instead take your leave to go and find the master of the estate because knowing him, he had to be around here somewhere.

Osamu decides to follow you and you let him. He doesn’t say a word as you wander aimlessly throughout the halls, passing by attendants of the Butterfly Estate and kakushi alike who politely bow to you in greeting as you pass them by. You don’t spare these people more than a single nod in acknowledgement before you hone in on the doors leading into Sakusa’s personal office and nudge them open with your fingers.

Sakusa is standing behind his desk with a vial in his hands. He’s got pillar duties just like you, but he’s granted much more free time to mess around with the mass of concoctions that he makes which you can’t even begin to name.

“What do you want?” Sakusa asks, because he is used to people barging into his room without permission, but unlike Komori you at least have the decency and the mind to not enter his room and risk death by accidental poisoning among other things.

“Thought you should know that you’ll be having two guests hanging around here for a while.” You say with a shrug of your shoulders, but Sakusa doesn’t even spare you a glance.

“Alright.” He says.

“Where’s Komori?”

“Mission.”

“Okay.”

Upon hearing this Sakusa finally decides to turn critical eyes upon you and he gives you a pointed look that says exactly what he is thinking. He doesn’t even need to say anything for you to go, and you mockingly salute him before shutting the door and heading out on your merry way.

“Uh,” Osamu begins, but he seems to be at a loss for words and you don’t really blame him. Your relationship with Sakusa is a strange one, but it’s oddly comforting despite the curt conversations that you always have with him. Neither of you are big on speaking, and you’ve spent enough time with him to know his signs and for him to know yours in turn.

“Don’t think too much about it.” You say, because there really is no need to think too hard about it.

“Okay,” Osamu relents. “But where are we going?”

“Baths.”

Osamu blinks, like he is having trouble processing what you just said. “What?”

“I’d rather not be covered in dirt and dried blood.” You say. “Aren’t you pretty uncomfortable too?”

Osamu, the poor guy, just looks so horribly confused, like you had just thrown him for a loop and never really bothered to get him back out. “I mean, yeah?” He replies, but it sounds more like a question at this point. “But, wait, is that it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Shouldn’t we be more…” He vaguely waves his hand around, like that is enough to convey what he is trying to say but it’s really not because you have no idea what he is saying. “Careful?”

“No.” You answer, because it is the truth. “This is one of the safest places you’ll ever find yourself in. There’s no need to be on edge.”

“But…”

“How much do you know? About demons?” You interrupt, because it is a serious question and one that you need to know.

“Jus’ the stories that granny always told us about when we were kids.” Osamu murmurs. “But we thought it was just that—stories, I mean.”

“Well, they aren’t.” You say before you can think your words through, and you wince slightly at how bluntly you managed to phrase that. “I mean, they aren’t just stories. You see—”

And you tell him all about the demons and the Corps, because he more than anyone else has the right to know what it is exactly that tore his family apart, that killed all the people that he knew and loved and cared about.

You go to sleep later that night with your shoulders feeling lighter but no less weighted. The burdens that you carry are far too great, and there’s no way that it can ever be less because it will only build from here on out. You toss and turn in your sleep, and when you finally manage to settle down enough to rest you don’t think about how if you had been just a step earlier, a step faster, that maybe you could have saved them all.

* * *

You spend two days in the Butterfly Estate before your crow comes knocking at your door looking to peck your eyes out as he gives you your next mission. You consult Kita for supplies and bid goodbye to Sakusa who merely waves a hand in your direction before you find yourself wandering back out the door to hit the road.

You don’t take more than two steps out of the estate before there are footsteps rushing out to meet you, and you turn to see Osamu tripping his way out through the sliding doors and scrambling to run after you.

“Wait—” He calls out, and you can’t help but raise an eyebrow in question because what is this guy doing? You stay put because you have somehow managed to become friends with him and Atsumu over the past two days, so out of the kindness of your heart you decide to wait for him to reach you. 

Osamu doubles over and puts his hands on his knees the moment he pulls up to your side, gasping and heaving for breath and you can’t help but wonder if he’s just come back from running around the entire estate maybe three whole times. You patiently wait for him to catch his breath and when he does he reaches into his sleeve to grab something and then presses whatever it is into the palm of your hands.

“An omamori?” You exclaim, blankly staring down at the wad of silk.

“It’s to keep you safe.” He says, pointedly glancing away from you as you inspect the little charm in wonder. “You probably need it more than I do so…”

Your heart does a little pitter patter in your chest and you can’t help the small smile that creeps up onto your face. “Thank you.” You murmur and tuck the charm away into your breast pocket, into the one that lays right over your heart.

“Are ya gonna drop by again soon?” Osamu asks, and you don’t really have it in you to say yes because you’re not actually sure when you’ll be back. Someday, sure. But soon? You don’t know about that.

“Perhaps.” You say, because it’s the only answer that you can really give that’s about as close to the truth as it’ll come.

“Okay.” He says and then bravely meets your gaze. “Stay safe.”

You offer him a smile and a friendly wave before turning your back to him. “I will.” You say, because there is nothing else that you can do if not keep yourself safe, to keep yourself up and running so that you can wake up to the dawn of a new day.

You take a step forward to set out on your mission, and you don’t let yourself look back as you leave the estate and disappear beneath the canopy of trees some distance away.

* * *

You’re not really sure how a call for backup had ended up with you in a fight for your life against an Upper Moon, but it’s happening and you’re doing your goddamn best to not only keep your juniors from dying but also to kill this bastard that had just knocked an entire territory off of the map and wiped it clean off the face of the Earth itself.

You’ve got blood on your clothes and in your hair and you’ve got at least three broken ribs in your chest. You’re missing an eye too but that is fine, this is nothing. This pain is better than death itself or having your colleagues die on you right before your very eyes. 

You’re not going to let this demon go, not on your watch.

You take a breath and let the air fill your lungs, let the winds that travel the world move through your veins like they are a part of you. You feel your sword hum in excitement, vibrating in the palm of your hands but you pay it no mind, channeling all of your focus into going through the nine forms that you have at your disposal.

You give it your all, twisting and turning and using the entire expanse of your torso to swing your blade from impossible angles that cut through skin and bone with all of the strength of a typhoon behind your every move. You let the calming breeze clear your vision and you channel the biting winds and violent gales into your every swing which lets your blade sing.

But even after all of your efforts it is not enough. The demon regenerates even when you’ve lobbed off a part of its head or its arm or even its chest and its leg. You’re left back at square one every single time it’s body becomes whole, and there’s nothing you can do but push forward and fight until the end.

A clawed hand comes racing towards you and you just barely manage to avoid it, but it’s talons are close enough to catch onto your clothes and drag across your skin. You can feel the sting of the wound that is left behind in the demon’s wake, but it’s the least of your concerns now because you’re suddenly hit with the scent of wisterias so strong that it has even the Upper Moon recoiling in surprise.

Your eyes catch sight of the omamori Osamu had given you earlier that month, tattered silk and flowers fluttering in the breeze, but you register no more than that because this is the opening that you have long since been waiting for. 

You stomp your foot into the ground and surge forward, putting your all into one last swing. You carry the winds of fate in your hands and you pray to the gods and all of the above that hopefully this will be enough to put an end to this demon, to this long and grueling battle that’s worn you down to the very edges of your bones.

You swing your sword, but you don’t remember anything that happens after that.

* * *

You wake to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and you wonder if this is it, if this is when you’ve finally died and gone back to wherever it is that lost souls are supposed to go to, but you think to yourself that no, this can’t be right. 

You can’t be dead because you’re pretty sure that being dead means that you’re not supposed to feel like you’ve just gotten hit ten times over by the train that Bokuto and Kuroo have been excitedly going on and on about before they left for their last mission. You’re pretty sure it’s not supposed to feel like you’ve got a pounding headache that pulses behind your eyes and you’re pretty sure that it’s not supposed to feel like you’ve got a dull ache in your chest and that your hands and feet feel like it's been through a meat grinder.

You peel your eyes open and you’re met with the sight of a light wooden ceiling that you are all too familiar with. You’re also met with the sight of Osamu’s face hovering right over your own, and isn’t that a pleasant surprise to wake up to?

Osamu’s eyes widen once he sees you rouse from your sleep, and he opens his mouth to say something but you can’t hear his voice over the buzzing sound in your ears. You shut your eyes and will it to go away, but it doesn’t go away and the next thing you know you’ve got fingers trying to pry your mouth open and you snap your eyes open to see Sakusa and Kita and Komori surrounding you with panicked eyes and prodding fingers.

Kita and Komori somehow manage to pry your mouth open through their combined efforts and through sheer force of will, and Sakusa takes the chance to pour something down your throat. It’s an antidote, you distantly realize. It’s got the taste of one and it smells like one and it’s got you choking and gasping for breath, spitting and coughing out blood and ichor and all the poison that you hadn’t even realized was coursing through your veins.

You don’t have much time to think about, have much time to think about anything because the next thing you know you’re out before you can even realize it.

* * *

The next time you wake you’re more dazed and confused than anything else. It’s too bright and too loud and there’s a sharp pain that flashes through your chest every time you so much as breathe.

“You’re an idiot.” Someone says, and you twist your head around just enough to see Sakusa sitting at your bedside with a book in his lap.

You open your mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a hoarse cough that grates against your throat like sandpaper. Sakusa grimaces, but reaches for the cup on the bedside table anyways. He helps you up just enough so that you can take generous sips of the bitter concoction that is made of nothing but medicinal herbs, and though it has you gagging you drink it until it’s down to its very last drop.

“What—”

“You fought an Upper Moon.” Sakusa explains before you can even get your question out. “You almost died.”

“...Did I?”

Sakusa gives you the most deadpan stare he could muster. “You’ve been out for almost an entire week.” He says. “You’re missing an  _ eye.” _

“Oh.”

Sakusa huffs. “You’re lucky Motoya got to you in time. If he didn’t then you wouldn’t even be here right now.”

“Hm.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I figured I had it coming for me, one way or another.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes and climbs to his feet. “Whatever. I’m telling the others you’re awake.”

“Hey,” You call out and Sakusa pauses in his step, glancing over his shoulder to face you. “Thanks.”

“You should be saying that to Motoya, not to me.”

“But you got the poison out of my system, didn’t you?”

“Kita did.”

“Stop being stingy and just accept the thanks.”

“No.”

“Ugh.”

Sakusa huffs out a laugh. “Rest, you’re gonna need it.”

* * *

When the night falls and the lights go out and the rest of the estate has been lulled into a state of slumber, Osamu slips into your room after all of his work is done for the day. He’s taken on the role of a chef ever since you had brought him and Atsumu back to the estate, cooking dozens of meals a day to feed hungry mouths and spending most of his time in the kitchens preparing food to be cooked from dawn till dusk.

Osamu slips into your room and takes a seat in the chair at your bedside, bringing with him a plate of food made especially for you along with a pot of freshly brewed tea made for two.

He keeps you company throughout the course of the night despite the fact that he should be getting as much rest as he possibly can for the days ahead, but he’s adamant in spending some time with you and you can’t really complain when you’ve gotten used to staying up until the late hours of the morning every single day.

You speak in hushed tones and let the silences fill the space between you and it’s comfortable. Being with Osamu is comfortable and you’re glad that despite your hectic mornings and the whirlwind of visitors that you receive throughout the day that Osamu is the one who stays a constant and makes an effort to visit you every day.

Osamu doesn’t light the candle on your bedside table for fear of attracting Kita who would most definitely force him to go back to bed, so the two of you can do nothing but navigate the darkness using only the light of the moon to guide your way.

It is here, under the cover of the night that you say your thanks to him, and with the sliver of silver that shines down upon him you can see that Osamu is more surprised than anything else, like he is wondering why you are thanking him of all people when it is Komori who saved you, when it is Sakusa and Kita who treated you and even Atsumu who’s been aiding you in your journey to a full recovery by nursing you back to health under the careful guidance of Sakusa and Kita respectively.

“Your omamori.” You explain. “It protected me, kept me safe.”

“Not enough.” Osamu murmurs. “You lost an eye.”

“Sure, but I’m alive aren’t I? Isn’t that enough?”

“I guess…”

The room falls into silence and it’s like there is something in the air that is waiting to be said. Osamu avoids your gaze but you keep your stare locked on him, on the way his hair looks silver beneath the moonlight and the way his chest rises and falls with every breath.

“Hey,” You call out, and Osamu hums beneath his breath to show you that he is listening. “If I asked you to make another one for me, would you?”

Osamu stills and turns to face you, to stare at you incredulously like you have just grown a second head when really all you did was ask him a simple question.

“What?”

“Would you make me another omamori if I asked you to?”

“...Why?” He asks, and you have to take a moment to mull over your words, to phrase it in a way that makes sense to both him and you without any room for doubts.

“It kept me safe.” You begin, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you think over your words once again. “The omamori that you gave me kept me safe. Would it just be wishful thinking if I said that I hope it can do it again?”

“No,” He replies. “But why are ya askin’  _ me  _ to make you one?”

“I like the thought of someone looking out for me.” You murmur as you turn to meet Osamu’s gaze. “I like the thought of having someone think of me, of wishing me well always as I carry a piece of them with me. Is it so bad that I want it to be you?”

Osamu’s lips melt into a smile, and he reaches out to nudge your fingers with his own. You hook them through his and bring your intertwined hands up to your lips, brushing a chaste kiss over his knuckles that makes Osamu’s lips break out into a full blown grin, bright and beautiful like the afternoon sun.

“Nah,” He says. “I don’t think it’s so bad at all.”

“So you’ll make me one?”

“As many as ya want.”

“No matter how many times I ask?”

“No matter how many times ya ask.”

“Thank you.”

“I think I should be the one thankin’ you.” He says. “Thank you, for saving my life.”

“It’s my job.”

“Mn, but even still, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You watch with rapt attention as Osamu’s eyelids begin to flutter, as a yawn escapes his lips and he nudges you aside, pushing you to the edges of your bed so that he can lie down too. He climbs beneath the covers and curls up in your arms, resting his head upon your chest. Even though there’s still a dull ache that lingers from your injuries, even though his head is resting upon tender skin that is still bruised black and blue, you don’t say a word as you watch him settle into your arms and drift off to sleep.

He’s about as peaceful in his sleep as you remember him being and you think to yourself that perhaps one day, when all of this is over, you’ll have the chance to do this again, to lie in bed with him in your arms and without a care in the world. 

You pray that a day like that will come soon, and you pray that you’ll live long enough to see it through.

**Author's Note:**

> starring sunarin as the wind pillar, miya osamu as your local chef, sakusa kiyoomi as the insect pillar, kita shinsuke as the only man ever, and miya atsumu as That Guy
> 
> (komori as the thunder pillar and no you cannot change my mind)
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/zantetsvkens) | [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.qa/zantetsvkens)


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